"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. " "You daren't use it. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building.
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