On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. Bulging out more in the
middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end,
—a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased
by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced,
like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance
from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all
wet and sticky. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole,
and listened intently. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to
say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 06-07-2024 03:43:33