Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye.
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