He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. None this end. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. "Many thanks, Sir," replied Thornhill, with freezing politeness; "but Id not require assistance.
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