Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone.
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