" "Pity!" shrieked the widow. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. Suspicion was in his face. Fortescue, with a bow. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. “My dear Anna,” he answered. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. I will lay them all at your feet. Wood. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety.
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