I want you. It must be somewhere hereabouts. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. To-morrow they will know the truth. " "It is false," cried Mrs. Hill,” she said graciously. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. You'd better lose no time.
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