“It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. She and I were very close.
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