CHAPTER IX. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. I am—’ ‘Like me, entirely English. He's passed through some rough mental torture. Looking for something, or someone, probably. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink.
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