Chapter XXVIII
THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE”
There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the
gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. "
Without waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he
quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted. “I did,” Anna answered. . Jackson appears to do, it can't be very offensive to be
told, that he's like him. The above
description of
—the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains
Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains—
may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by
his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his
countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may,
possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. "Recollect you are in my power.
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