The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door.
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