That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. It was obvious that he had waited for her.
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