“Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn.
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