“Don’t tell anyone I told you this. ” “Yes. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful. ” “By all means,” Brendon answered. Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended.
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