"Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. “Put her in the trunk. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. “That sounds quite absurd,” she answered. Oblige me by acting under my guidance in the matter, Sir Rowland.
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