"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. She repeated this breathlessly. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand.
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