Hollo rumbled in his throat. The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of whom carried lanterns and links. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk.
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