Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street.
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