"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup.
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