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But I must summon my janizaries. . At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. My reply to all of them has been the same. "I'm sorry, Mr. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move.
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