Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. " "He'll have hard work to do it by that time, father," remonstrated Thames; "you'd better let me help him. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome.
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