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Jack Rangsley was a tall , big - boned , thin man , with something sinister in the
lines of his horseman's cloak , and something reckless in the way he set his
spurred heel on the ground . He was the son of an old Marsh squire . Old
His head was knotted in a red , white - spotted handkerchief ; his grizzled beard
was tangled ; he wore a black and rusty cloak , ragged at the edges , and his feet
were often bare ; at his side would lie his wooden right hand . As a rule , the ...
Tomas Castro dropped his ragged cloak with a grandiose gesture . “ By my hand
! ” he added with difficulty . He was really very much alarmed . Carlos was gazing
up the hatch . I was ready to laugh at the idea of dying by Tomas Castro's hand ...
He sent a baleful yellow glare into my eyes , and stooped to pick up his ragged
cloak . “ Up - mount ! ” Carlos commanded . Castro muttered , “ Vamos , " and
began clumsily to climb the ladder , like a bale of rags being hauled from above .
I hadn't the strength to shake off a fly , my heart was bursting my ribs . I lay on my
back and managed Give me air . " I thought I should die . Castro , draped in his
cloak , stood over me , but Major Cowper fell on his knees near my head , almost
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - ToddSherman - LibraryThing
“And on this ghostly sigh, on this breath, with the feeble click of beads in the nun’s hands, a silence fell upon the room, vast as the stillness of a world of unknown faiths, loves, beliefs, of ... Read full review