” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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