Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect. She let out a wail. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak.
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