It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. Smith obeyed. We’ll make short work of them. Something seemed awry. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon.
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