He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. " "By Jack Sheppard!" exclaimed the thief-taker. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. “She told you that?” “Yes. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery.
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