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. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. " So saying, he raised a whistle to his lips, and blew a loud call; and, as this was unanswered, another still louder. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart.

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