"Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. Me, you may have. A man, then, rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat. There's a hundred pounds too much. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door.
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