These desperadoes had been the most active in demolishing the coach, and now, being supported by the rabble, they audaciously approached the very portals of the ancient Hall. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared.
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