A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. Stanley considered. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Brother and Sister.
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