On Sunday, he was conveyed to the chapel, through which he had passed on the occasion of his great escape, and once more took his seat in the Condemned Pew. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. Ann Veronica said nothing. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. Presently he felt motion. . Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open.
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