From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. But though he visited Sir Rowland Trenchard's seat, Ashton Hall, he could gain no tidings of him, or of his uncle, Sir Rowland, who, it seems, has left the country. It's two hundred pounds. "Well!" cried Mrs.
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