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. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. Besides, she had admitted her identity. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. There's not his peer among the peerage. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand.
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