" As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. I feel years younger, a man again. “I don’t care a rap for remembering. . Not content with this, the assailants set fire to the house in half-a-dozen other places; and the progress of the flames was rapid and destructive. I shouldn't care to have attention constantly drawn to us. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself.
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