" "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. " "I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. Moving room to room it was. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Then a ride to London on horseback. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. She waited for him to leave the room, and turned back to Gerald.
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