On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. . He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. " "Well, well, I'm not within a minute," rejoined the turnkey.
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