Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and half-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. See paragraph 1. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. .
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