We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. ‘Do not beg my pardon. You're in luck to-night, widow. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed. "I believe he is conscious," she answered. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian.
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