‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. Sheppard," replied Jonathan, mysteriously. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. —'They have,' says he. . He kissed her fingers and grinned. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm.
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