Once more he was the searcher. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. "And Jack?" "Gone too," sobbed his daughter. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Most of the mob were armed with pikes, staves, swords, muskets, and other weapons, and offered a most desperate resistance to the soldiery, whom they drove back with a shower of paving-stones.
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