On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. You're Mister Wild's pris'ner, and worse luck to it!" "I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames; "but will you convey a message for me?" "Where to, honey?" "To Mr. Wear one on the stage on the following day. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. ’ She eyed him.
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