"Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse.
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