" "It is false," cried Mrs. I don’t quite know why. 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. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out.
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