’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. I do not care in the least. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through.
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