Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. "'Sblood! what's this!" cried Jonathan, in the utmost surprise. ‘And for you, monsieur le major, it will be well if you do not make me a shock like this again.
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