He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. Mr. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said.
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