The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped.
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