"'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. The class of guests we have are all permanent, and I am obliged to be very careful indeed. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened—Shotbolt's note having been received just before. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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