Wood in the deepest mourning. But be patient, I am your fast friend. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. " "If this is the extent of it, Sir," returned the knight, ironically, "you may spare yourself further trouble. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Kneebone! you would greatly oblige me by surrendering yourself. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Mr. "I am content," said Jack.
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