Sheppard. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from.
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