Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. Where is Sebastianus? I am Rhea. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. The gentlemen are so particular now, and a good thing too, I say.
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