“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. ” He stood still, looking at her. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. They broke open the entrance into Jonathan's store-room—plundered it of everything valuable—ransacked every closet, drawer, and secret hiding-place, and stripped them of their contents. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed.
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