" "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. ” “Not in the least,” Anna answered calmly. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. . Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. " Thames hastily cast his eyes over it, and transferred it, with a look of incredulity, to Wood. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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