‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. ” “Oh, it wasn’t that. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture.
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