His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. Here we go, thought Gerald. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr.
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