No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. That blow made me a thief. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake.
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