I believe you have had it pulled down, have you not?” “The Misses Pellissier!” he exclaimed. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. “I promise, Lucy. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. A father is in debt, we'll say.
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