Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter.
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