We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod.
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