"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. "No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. You see, my riddle is solved. No doubt that was due to his helplessness.
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