As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles.
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