And at the sight something leaped within her. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. ’ Melusine’s arm crept up around his neck. His brain reeled. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. . It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. The Well Hole.
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