"Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. " In this temper, it will naturally be imagined, that Mrs. . . . Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. ” “But there is not a shadow of evidence against you,” he objected.
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