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This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. "The Captain has seldom much appetite," replied Blueskin, who, having disposed of the fowl, was commencing a vigorous attack upon the sirloin.
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