Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. The Night-Cellar XVIII. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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