The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. But I can't account for it!" "At all events, you shall answer for it," thundered Wild, with a bitter imprecation. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Very good. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned.
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