He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. “Go on,” he said. Fortescue?” “At your service. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. “I did it for love of you,” he said. “She means to go. She recalled him.
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