Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. Someone was coming out of the house. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. “A move of any sort would certainly be fatal. But I trusted to that ring of yours. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars.
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