‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he.
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