" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. "Mr. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet.
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