‘Yes, but quite my own fault. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. The robbers proceeded singly, and kept on the grass skirting the road, so that no noise was made by their horses' feet. I didn’t go out of my way or anything.
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