Retreating as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment, fortunately discovered a skreen, behind which he crept. "Hold!" cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; "they are nothing to me. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. “We can be alone?” She inquired. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin.
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