They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. Sheppard. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks.
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