You'll be answerable for his escape. CHAPTER XXXI. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains.
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