O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. . "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait.
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