“If you speak—farewell. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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