After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up.
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