In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired.
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