" "How did he take it?" "He did not seem to care. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. ” Sir John coughed. ” Anna laid down her serviette. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. . ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily.
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