Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. Annabel, I cannot believe it. Sheppard had been interred. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. ‘It is what my father intended. Small blame to her.
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