Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. The Procession to Tyburn. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay.
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