"He's dead," exclaimed Austin. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. I cannot go on.
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