He was a stranger. On his first entrance, a prisoner, if unable or unwilling to comply with the exactions of the turnkeys, was thrust into the Condemned Hold with the worst description of criminals, and terrified by threats into submission. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. I would not think so of you, Marthe. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar.
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