“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. " "Thank'ee,—thank'ee. At the first blow, Mrs. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. "I've the Bridewell account to settle. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity.
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