"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. By a sort of instinct. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person.
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