Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. " "Why what will she say?" inquired Sheppard. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. If we were set upon I could not defend you. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. CHAPTER II.
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