All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right.
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