He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. I took the money myself, and ought to know. What you did is called manslaughter, and at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be frightened about in the least. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow.
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