Ennison?” Sir John hesitated. Wood, at the top of her voice. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. Then they rode off at speed. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate.
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