In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. "What is he gone there for?" "With a message to the turnkey to look after his prisoner," replied Wild, with a cunning smile.
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