Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. I want to give you time to think. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. The first Step towards the Ladder VII. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation.
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