About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Mr. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair.
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