"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. ’ Still no response. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. “Sufficient unto me is the change thereof,” he said, with all the effect of an epigram. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile.
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