He did not particularly care. Lucy? Come 177 on out. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil.
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