“Why should it matter?” he said. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow.
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