“You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. " She rose. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him.
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