82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. Only one penny—two copies—two pence—thank you, Sir. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. I'll lay my life he's gone. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. Wood hadn't struck me. In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation.
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