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"You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. ‘That is my mother. ’ You were to be kidnapped from the Manor in early July, but you took matters into your own hands in March. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. “You may find in it a paragraph of some interest to you. "Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin.
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