“You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. CHAPTER I. E.
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