He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. It was impossible. “I murder people, John. They are for serving me. '" As these words were delivered by the carpenter with stern emphasis, a female servant entered the room, and stated that a gentleman was at the door, who wished to speak with Captain Darell on business of urgent importance. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing.
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