"I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. Only a book detective could dope this out. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. Take the one that struck him at this moment.
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