He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate. ” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared. Irreton. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline.
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