" "I hear," said Sir Rowland, moodily. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. The other lay unconscious in a heap. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. "It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us.
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