\" He said. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. It melted her heart. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him.
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