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We close the chapter. " "Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are. He smiled. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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