Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. There was something fatalistic about the letter H. The Hospital St. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt.
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