Following his guide, Sir Rowland found himself in a large and lofty apartment, the extent of which he could not entirely discern until lights were set upon the table. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. CHAPTER III. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York.
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