"Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. Her husband finally relented.
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