Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. She had never let off a pistol in her life. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. "Be still, and you'll receive no injury," returned Jackson.
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