" "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth.
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