The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. But it is the truth. Not choosing to hazard so great a fall, Jack turned to examine the building, to see whether any more favourable point of descent presented itself, but could discover nothing but steep walls, without a single available projection. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. Then he goes stony, and beats his way around the islands for another three months. None presented themselves to save him from that return.
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