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In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. This is a case either of suicide or murder. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. They will find me dead, yes. " "Mr. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service.
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