Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. . The gate was opened; the coffin brought into the churchyard; and Jack, whose eyes were filled with tears, saw Mr.
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