Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness.
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