The spikes almost touched the upper part of the hatch: scarcely space enough for the passage of a hand being left between their points and the beam. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. "What's to be done next?" cried Blueskin, returning to Rachel, who was standing with Edgeworth Bess near the door. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. " "Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am.
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