Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Wood fancied he recognised. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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