Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. “G. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. This also struck her as odd. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. You’re a little late, you must remember, and we are punctual people here. "Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him.
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