" "I expect no commiseration," returned Mrs. Stanley, consenting with dignity. “I killed him. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew. So get up, and let's be off. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark.
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