He suspected a trap. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. I am the richest man in the world. I took him out of the hands of death. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. Oh, Mr Jarvis paid no mind,’ she added hastily, as if expecting disapproval. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure.
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