You understand me, I’m sure. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. ‘Exactement. ‘I doubt it. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. The porter instantly made his appearance, and Sheppard ordered him to take care of the horses. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired.
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