He knew what he knew. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come.
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