’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. ‘That way. Now, Sir.
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