It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Wild had escaped. The crowd dispersed in different directions, and most fortunately a heavy shower coming on, put them altogether to flight.
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