. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. " Upon which, with an assurance that he would not do so, the attendant departed.
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