His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared.
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