Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. It was bare of any furnishings. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. " "Pray do so, Madam," retorted Mrs.
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