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“What was the scheme the cattlemen had decided upon?” Whitney wanted to know. On observing this, several of the officers sprang forward to the assistance of their friends; and the rest, subdued by cowardice, hurried down the steps, letting the trapdoor fall after them with a thundering noise. They gave notice to Hippolitus of what was passing above, who hurried Julia along the passage in search of some outlet or place of concealment. They could find neither, and had not long pursued the windings of the way, when they heard the trapdoor lifted, and the steps of persons descending. Despair gave strength to Julia, and winged her flight. But they were now stopped by a door which closed the passage, and the sound of distant voices murmured along the walls. “Cut it out,” stammered Bob, confused. “I didn’t do anything.”.
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Conrad
Ferdinand, whose mind was wholly occupied with wonder, could with difficulty await the return of night. Emilia and Julia were scarcely less impatient. They counted the minutes as they passed; and when the family retired to rest, hastened with palpitating hearts to the apartment of madame. They were soon after joined by Ferdinand, who brought with him tools for cutting away the lock of the door. They paused a few moments in the chamber in fearful silence, but no sound disturbed the stillness of night. Ferdinand applied a knife to the door, and in a short time separated the lock. The door yielded, and disclosed a large and gloomy gallery. He took a light. Emilia and Julia, fearful of remaining in the chamber, resolved to accompany him, and each seizing an arm of madame, they followed in silence. The gallery was in many parts falling to decay, the ceiling was broke, and the window-shutters shattered, which, together with the dampness of the walls, gave the place an air of wild desolation. “Because—because his name has been written in the police records today, and the policeman took him there, and so it was horrid that this report should say he was a credit”— Perhaps he ought to be looking after his own fishing tackle. Every one was talking about going fishing nowadays and he’d better see whether his tackle was hanging where it should be, on the wall of the wash-house. William Holm had done nothing at school today but brag of that new fishing tackle of his. “It’d be a big saving all right if it could,” exclaimed Jerry at last. “And I believe it will work. There’s only one thing more to find out and that is how long the tunnel is.”.
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