"Stay!" interposed Jonathan. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. "My sight is failing me.
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