‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up.
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