" "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. She was the High Priestess. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly.
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