"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. He stopped before her suddenly. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. I know exactly what I am doing.
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