"As soon as we've conveyed you to Newgate, I'll accompany him. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. Buck up. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. \" He rose and departed.
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