Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. As she sat the bride actually woke up, sat up, and looked frightfully around the room. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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