" "Not quite," replied the manager. " "So I will," replied Jonathan, who, with Blueskin's aid, had succeeded in slipping a pair of handcuffs over the woollen-draper's wrists, "when I've Mr. That would be him. Just as they reached the end of the passage, they heard the voices of Jonathan and the Jew in Thames's late place of confinement. “Thought so. "The key's on the outside— quick! quick!" Instantly alive to this chance, Blueskin broke away. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house.
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