But I have two hundred thousand pounds. I must finish it at home. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Mrs. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. "Then you'll never know more than this," retorted Blueskin, with a grin of satisfaction;—"they're in a place of safety, where you'll never find 'em, but where somebody else will, and that before long.
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