He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, I arrest you in the name of the King. Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain.
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