‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. " "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. I was the last on board. “Holcroft,” he remarked, “in bald language, and with the usual limitations of his clouded intellect, has still given some slight expression to the consternation which I believe I may say is general amongst us.
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