And through all these defences and into Old Palace Yard, into the very vitals of the defenders’ position, lumbered the unsuspected vans. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter.
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