The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him.
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