The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. “In the event of his death we should require you at once to attend at the inquest. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. Will you take your old place by Miss Ellicot.
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