" "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. In fact, it had been anciently the right hand postern under the gate leading towards the city. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered.
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