. “He can’t be more than thirty. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. ‘Don’t be so absurd. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. It was only a matter of time. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied.
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