"Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town. Probably a sick man's whim.
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