Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you. " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement.
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