Ann Veronica said nothing. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. The operation was effected with so much rapidity and so little noise, that even if any one had been on the alert, he could scarcely have detected it. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. Let us proceed with our tale. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain.
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