She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. By Wild's command the prisoner was taken to the Condemned Hold, whither he was followed by the whole posse of officers and by the partners; two of whom carried large hammers and two the fetters. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. It is all very complex. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked.
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