Imbecile. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.
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