"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. Spurling. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse.
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