“Act three. Yes, I can readily believe it. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. . His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. He then threw open the door of the vehicle, in which he found his janizaries with their arms pinioned, and, leaping into it, ordered the man to drive off. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment.
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