The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. “I am sick of it. "But, pardon my intrusion. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. But—if you are a friend of Mr. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris.
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