The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress.
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