" "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all.
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