“Dear me!” he said. Went up to Somerset House to examine the will before he did it. “When one is happy—I don’t like to think of them. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. The police are concerned in it in either event. “Never mind. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad.
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