. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. "I'll tell you," replied Jack, with forced calmness.
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