Father— dead. Why?" "I was just wondering. "I give you joy of the capture, Mr. He rested on one elbow. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily. . " "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.
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