The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. ’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. I wanted something alive. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly.
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