There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. “Oh, much better. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. " Without waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted.
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