’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. “I do not wish to use this. " "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting.
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