\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. The room in which he was detained—that lately occupied by the Mohocks, who, it appeared, had been allowed to depart,—was calculated to inspire additional apprehension and disgust. Sebastian leapt down into the crypt. " "'Zounds!" cried the executioner, in astonishment.
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