‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. ” He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. " "'Zounds!" cried the executioner, in astonishment. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. In a moment they were in the street outside. Earles regarded it approvingly.
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