‘You don’t believe her?’ ‘My dear Major Alderley, I do not know her,’ Mrs Sindlesham pointed out. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards.
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