It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Here again instinct guided her.
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