The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. It is at the lodge that we stay. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. But why didn't you let me know they were coming. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall.
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