He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. "I shall state my suspicions to the governor. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. ” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet.
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