’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack. Together they crept through the erstwhile drawing room and entered the massive flagged hall. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. His two wives have been here. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure.
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