O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. It must be the dawn creeping in. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture.
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