Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage.
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