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Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. She rapped again, louder. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. ‘You don’t believe her?’ ‘My dear Major Alderley, I do not know her,’ Mrs Sindlesham pointed out. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection.
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