“Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. Ha!" exclaimed the stranger, as shouts and other vociferations resounded at no great distance along the thoroughfare, "not a moment is to be lost. Best assured of that. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. "Spare me!" Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife, with the intention of severing his wrist. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room.
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