Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. "Please tell me whenever I am at fault. The Night-Cellar.
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