She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. The policemen were closing in from the sides to intervene. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. Then he understood. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed.
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