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"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. "Altogether unsuccessful, Sir," said the chief turnkey, with a look of disappointment, not unmixed with apprehension, as he approached Wild. " "She has paid dearly for it," muttered Blueskin. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features.
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