The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. " "Well, this young lady I was about to describe," said the doctor, "is Enschede's daughter. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. Michelle had begged her to do it. "His name, I say!—his name!" thundered the knight.
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