" "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin. "You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor. And would you mind hurrying a little. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap.
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