John knew better. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 29-05-2024 19:17:28
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