Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. Montressor’s guests were. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story.
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