I have arrested him in the King's name. Now you will learn the result. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. " Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly.
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