” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. "My father!" she whispered. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. “I should like you to come here,” she said.
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