Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. But Blueskin found it impossible to make off,—at least with the spoil,—Mrs. “Oh. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it.
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