K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. "Upon him!" "Yield, villain, or die!" shouted Thames, drawing his sword and springing towards him. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him.
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