She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. But I don’t suppose you can understand. CHAPTER XXVI.
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