” The idea struck him as novel. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. 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. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford.
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