’ ‘That’s better. I did not reckon upon—him. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. “Come to my rooms and have a drink. I'm heading for bed. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. But don't let my name frighten you. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. Not a moment is to be lost. CHAPTER XVIII.
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