The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead. I want her to get forward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do with her.
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