And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. "The intelligence seems new to you.
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