The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. ‘Not in the open street. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension.
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