And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation.
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