‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. Phillips Oppenheim This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
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