Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them.
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