"If you were sure o' that we might seize him, and get the reward for his apprehension. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Interrogation takes many forms, you know, Lucy. White. My lads," he continued, addressing the partners; "when you've finished this job give that fellow a fresh set of darbies.
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