In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. Unless he has dealings with the devil, he could never have done this alone. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. It creaked slightly. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. Mr. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. "Fly!" cried Jack; "escape if you can; don't mind me.
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