His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. They are all at prayer at this hour. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. The rest. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut.
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