Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. “Non. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. He returned the locket without comment. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances.
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