He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. When it's done, I'll push you through. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. She is English, and apparently in some distress.
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