B. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. They either ran to see or ran for shelter.
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