Melusine, I’ve remembered something that may help you. Winifred pointed to the door. Your pursuers are below. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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