"He said, by way of comfort, I suppose, after the fright he gave me at first, that the child would find a friend within twenty-four hours, who would stand by him through life. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue.
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