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His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. But for perfect satisfaction, he must take a peek into the bedroom. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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