Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. " "I'll see where these footsteps lead to," said Blueskin, holding the light to the floor. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. ” His eyes were burning. They were the same.
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