At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. Burn your palette and your easel. "Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for your arrest! You're charged with hightreason. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity.
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