Her cheeks flushed a dull red. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. “Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause.
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