"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. Charcoal.
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