‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. Half an hour afterwards the body of Jack was carefully examined. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. “I tell you it was a lie!” he shouted wildly. . The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me.
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