I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Kneebone, and feeling certain of capturing him if he did so, Shotbolt, on quitting Newgate, hurried to the New Prison to prepare for the enterprise. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken.
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