Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. It was clear it must be to-morrow.
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