“Steady on!” he cried. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles.
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