In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm.
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