" "Enschede?—her father? What's happened?" McClintock sat down. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt.
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