That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. Sheppard returned no answer. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship.
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