On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. I must bless him before I die. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it.
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