On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. I was among the common herd in the place below, but I took good care to see you. Don't you see they're putting on their cloaks?" "That's false!" rejoined Marvel, in a low tone; "I perceive what has taken place.
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