Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers.
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