But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. . How dreary it all looks. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. Lucy's grin faded. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing.
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