His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. But for me it doesn’t matter. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back.
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