Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. CHAPTER III. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. . "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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