It’s the public entrance. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room.
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