White, my landlady, believes his story. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. "In wine there is truth. 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.
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