"You are," replied Kneebone. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. ’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
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