The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Mere formality. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. Surely Capes was different. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered.
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