A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square.
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