He lit a cigarette and loitered about. ‘I do not know him. “All right, Dunster,” he said. Mr. Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. I think we will soon, though.
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