Oh God! my limbs fail me. There was. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. But I can't account for it!" "At all events, you shall answer for it," thundered Wild, with a bitter imprecation.
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