Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall rounded upon them all at the club. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened.
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