‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. I'll lay my life he's gone. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Hill.
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