" Mr. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. My father thought the latter. ’ The lady uttered a scornful sound. \" She looked at Mike. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft.
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