Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. ’ Roding gave a bark of derisive laughter and left the room.
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