The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. If not, I'll take a cheerful glass with you at the City of Oxford, on my way to Tyburn. E.
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