I'll lay my life he's gone. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. "No," replied Jonathan, "I'll not take you at your word, as regards the latter proposition. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. “Soul to soul.
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