Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. The air was pungent and leaden. She was, she guessed, close to the library. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. Saint Giles's Round-house XIII.
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