"Stay!" said Jonathan, aiding his descent; "you had better take my lantern. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. My thanks, by the by. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge.
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