It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. "There, he's as safe as Jack Sheppard in the Condemned Hould," laughed the man. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill.
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