" CHAPTER XVIII. ” The man made no attempt to recover the revolver. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr.
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