Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction. If only Gerald would come. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing.
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