She pointed across the road. I thought that you were he. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him.
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