"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. You have betrayed me. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight.
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