Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. 1.
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