CHAPTER XXXI. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation.
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