In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears.
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