On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. It wasn’t pretty. "How!" exclaimed Sheppard. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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