For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Sheppard, hastily; "is that the name?" "Ay, ay, now I look again it is Trenchard. ‘But there is something still I do not understand.
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