"The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Mr. ’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath.
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