The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. "Bring him out, Quilt. Let me go, Sir. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice.
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