"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. "And now, farewell, Mr.
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