Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. ‘Never mind that now. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action.
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