"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. "I never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. 168 < 20 > HISTORY OF AN ABDUCTION She had not seen him for hundreds of years. Surely she could ignore him.
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