Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. You must have figured that out by now. He was at length rescued from his assailants,— rescued to perish, seven months afterwards, with every ignominy, at the very gibbet to which he had brought his victim. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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