’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself.
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