Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. The chair was torture. I'll be quiet. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. " "Mr.
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