I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. The end of the world seemed at hand. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. ‘Certainly no one will find it. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood.
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