" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way.
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