He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. Spurling, who wished to protract the discovery of the escape as long as possible. The entire family massacred.
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