‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation.
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