"Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. “This ain’t no place for you. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair.
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