" "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. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. "And you, Marvel, you must have been a party—" "I, Sir!" "If he's not found, I'll get a new hangman. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. ” she said. As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored.
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