I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Ennison’s acquaintance.
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