’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. "Is this Jack Sheppard? Oh, la! I'm undone! We shall all have our throats cut! Oh! oh!" And she rushed, screaming, into the passage where she fell down in a fit. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up.
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