The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey.
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