All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. She was nearly dead. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me.
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