‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. I just want him, and no one else will do. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master.
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