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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

I want these four men left alone, I tell you!'
'Pull the bars down, or stand out of the way,' was Hugh's reply.
'You can turn the crowd if you like, you know that well enough,
brother,' said the hangman, slowly. 'What! You WILL come in, will you?'
'Yes.'
'You won't let these men alone, and leave 'em to me? You've no respect
for nothing--haven't you?' said the hangman, retreating to the door by
which he had entered, and regarding his companion with a scowl. 'You
WILL come in, will you, brother!'
'I tell you, yes. What the devil ails you? Where are you going?'
'No matter where I'm going,' rejoined the hangman, looking in again at
the iron wicket, which he had nearly shut upon himself, and held ajar.
'Remember where you're coming. That's all!'
With that, he shook his likeness at Hugh, and giving him a grin,
compared with which his usual smile was amiable, disappeared, and shut
the door.
Hugh paused no longer, but goaded alike by the cries of the convicts,
and by the impatience of the crowd, warned the man immediately behind
him--the way was only wide enough for one abreast--to stand back, and
wielded a sledge-hammer with such strength, that after a few blows the
iron bent and broke, and gave them free admittance.


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