’ ‘You can arrest me,’ answered Kimble belligerently, ‘but you can’t make me say nothing about her. Ramage?” he asked. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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