" Thames was about to follow, when he felt a gentle grasp upon his arm. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly.
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