He showed me a black mark under his ear, where the noose would be tied. “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. You see, my riddle is solved. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there.
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