“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. But it was hopelessly hard to put. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. I don’t think we’re altogether to blame if we don’t take some of your lot seriously. "Stay!" interposed Jonathan. Montressor’s guests. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. But perhaps you don't know; there was nothing in the pockets.
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