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"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. There was a little murmur of consternation from the waiting crowd, and the florid young woman showed signs of temper, to which Mr. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. You should have a dog. Now, Sir.

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