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Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. How dreary it all looks. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage.
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