A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. " The stranger smiled incredulously. Perhaps I am still mad. A Madame Valade and her husband.
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