’ The fellow seized on this. . And not a worthy tome in sight. Then she went into the office. This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door.
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