Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. "You read it, Ruth. "Well?" he whispered. He died when I was. ‘No. So it does. ‘You kissed me that you might make me find it for you instead?’ ‘I had no such intention. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast.
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