I told him the truth. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. It was not a long prayer. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. 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. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily.
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