“But, forgive me, you are tired. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. His face turned a dark crimson. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. ” She paused again.
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