Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I. I had nosebleeds that day and I got halfway up the rope before I fell off. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. There was a flash and a loud report. ‘Parbleu, that pig, he will ruin all. But he has never been near her—never. Pity you aren’t under my command.
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