Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. For I still love her mother. And here's the proof. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived.
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