"Wretch!" cried Jack. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. The door opened. " Which was literally the truth. Entering the outer gate, and traversing the broad gravel walk before-mentioned, Jack ascended the steps, and was admitted, on feeing the porter, by another iron gate, into the hospital. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. He parried without apparent effort. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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