CHAPTER XXXII. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. It loves to sit on your knee. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. . The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other.
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