ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. It was about twelve feet high, nine wide, and fourteen long; and was approached by double doors each six inches thick.
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