The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. We were going at a mad pace. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically. She was weeping now. You take them.
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