" "If you mean the fugitive, Darrell, he has escaped through the back window," replied Jonathan. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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