By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. Sheppard, meekly. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. It was a habit of his to talk to himself.
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