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The next instant, he was launched into eternity! Scarcely had he been turned off a moment, when a man with swarthy features leapt into the cart with an open clasp-knife in his hand, and, before he could be prevented, severed the rope, and cut down the body. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. I was rude and stupid. So they fenced with smiles. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. Tears sprang to her eyes. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She floundered deep. I think that nearly every manager in London has made me an offer.
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