In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Ireton is welcome to search every room in my house if he pleases," said Jonathan, in a tone of bravado. Not a moment is to be lost.
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