Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. Old Bedlam. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. "Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head.
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