“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. They walked side by side for a time. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor.
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