At length, at the end of a passage, next to the cell where Mrs. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history— especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. If she returns to the house from which we took her, her companions will laugh at her and smother her with ridicule. This—all this swamps them.
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