She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. “I wrote it for you. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. As it is not, however, our intention to furnish a complete catalogue of these curiosities, we shall merely mention that in front of them lay a large and sharp knife, once the property of the public executioner, and used by him to dissever the limbs of those condemned to death for high-treason; together with an immense two-pronged flesh-fork, likewise employed by the same terrible functionary to plunge the quarters of his victims in the caldrons of boiling tar and oil.
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