He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. " "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff.
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