Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. “You must send for the police at once, you know. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. He was as hard as a rock. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window.
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