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The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. ‘Here we go again. ” Mike said, with unsubtle jealousy. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. But probably not the truth.
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