" "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. " "But I never saw anybody more alive. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. . Nothing. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. "I've lost my wager. Sometimes I try to talk. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight.
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