" "Irons—heavy irons—night and day. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him.
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