Mr. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. .
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