"You are," replied Kneebone. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. God knows how you did it. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. H’m.
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