"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. ‘But it is entirely natural that I choose my own country. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom.
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