’ ‘Take care,’ warned Hilary, his eyes on his improvised bandage. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them.
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