Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall.
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