If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. To work then he went, and with wonderful industry filed off two of the iron bars. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight.
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