No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. Well, one must hope, that was all.
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