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Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. Winifred pointed to the door. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. They happen to a man.
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