I expect Mr. A bumper round, gentlemen. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. It was impulsive and natural. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope.
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