Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. " "Oh! he told you that, did he?" said Blueskin, marching up to her, and chucking her under the chin. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him.
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