Killed is too kind a word. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner. "Think not to deceive me, monster. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me.
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