Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Say something. As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly.
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