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‘She’s gone. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Nothing ensued. He fixed it. “Why not?” He asked. But I shan’t try to stop you. He shuddered. Drummond patted him on the shoulder.
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