Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. On the envelope was written— Sydney Courtlaw, Esq. They had not to tarry long. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it.
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