" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. I let him take me to the English Embassy, and we went through some sort of a ceremony.
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