" "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. "What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. .
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