‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight.
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