Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. " So saying, he pushed aside the table, and the janizary stooping down, undrew a bolt and opened a trap-door. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime.
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