And I wish you all the happiness in the world. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Earles?” he inquired. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door.
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