” Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. She moved a little nearer to him. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. Too much, perhaps. Good night. ” “Why not?” She turned on him.
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