"My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. We have to hang about in the interval. ’ ‘Perfectly correct, my boy. "Come along, my sly shaver. I’m okay.
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