" "It's all right, pals," cried Baptist, in a loud tone; "the gentlemen and I have settled matters. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. Earles, but it is a good one. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. ‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. Beck, it smells wonderful in here.
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