It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. . " So saying, he closed the lantern. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. F. .
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