They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Mr. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. She bent down. The bolder members in the House left their places to go lobbyward, grinning.
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