Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. " "That is your fault, none of mine. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. CHAPTER XXVII.
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