She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. The investigators should have thought to check inside the garbage can. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. ” She gasped. Suddenly she understood. "During the whole of that time I have been a close prisoner in Newgate, whence I have only just escaped.
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