I was not even sure whether it was loaded. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. "You're on," said O'Higgins. ’ The sword was released to slide back into its scabbard.
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