There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. " "Knock him on the head," thundered Sir Cecil, "or we shall have the watch upon us.
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