Lucy followed. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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