It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. The executioner shook his head. Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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