By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. So far as regards his attire, Baptist was not seen to advantage. “She will take her risk,” she answered. "And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. "A little. He drew a little sigh of relief. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same.
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