" "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. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. Capes stood beside Miss Stanley, who was beaming unnaturally, and Mr.
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