” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. They were filthy after the burial. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable.
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