The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. But you must get him into the chair as fast as you can, and hurry off to Newgate.
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