Somehow to-night—I don’t know. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. ‘Come, Hilary.
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