Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. " Immediately he stepped back. Your purpose is done. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. I had to stay in school no matter how sick I was.
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