‘You can’t prove nothing. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground.
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