“I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
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