’ ‘Dunderhead. I'll tote it myself. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. What a pig she was. I kicked the living shit out of him. I was rude and stupid. Better get back now! You be careful. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea.
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