At length, at the end of a passage, next to the cell where Mrs. ” Thank Heaven! Mr. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. ” Pause. " "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. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished.
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