But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. 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. But if you have considerable money, you had better leave it in the office safe. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. This is retribution.
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