Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. Now, you know where he is bound. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. Oh, you must believe me.
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