He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. They had completed a circuit of the mansion before Roding’s frustration burst out.
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