A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. “Well——” She stopped short. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake.
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