Enschede's daughter. His eyes closed. He was there concealed, waiting her return. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. "Ready!" answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair of weapons.
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