" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. “It is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended. "Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. " "Not while Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland live. ‘But it is idiot. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. ‘By the by, get Trodger to send up one of our best men, will you? Someone discreet.
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