Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. ‘But tell me this instead. ’ ‘Precisely. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper.
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