There was no one to be seen in the great hall. Ousted from his old retreat, the Cross Shovels, Baptist Kettleby opened another tavern, conducted upon the same plan as the former, which he denominated the Seven Cities of Refuge. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. You have nothing more to fear from Wild. The mummies were tossed into the collection. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself.
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