Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. He's now in spring-ankle warehouse with Sir Rowland Trenchard. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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