She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. "Now your curiosity's satisfied, child," continued Kneebone, "perhaps, you'll attend to my orders. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak.
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