Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. "No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. “I tell you it was a lie!” he shouted wildly. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well.
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