I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. ‘You have rifled his papers. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous.
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