Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. He was at length rescued from his assailants,— rescued to perish, seven months afterwards, with every ignominy, at the very gibbet to which he had brought his victim. " As Jack made no reply, the woman proceeded. Get the men back to their posts. For a few minutes he kept them at bay.
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