Happy Thanksgiving. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. “I may seem unduly— anxious. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. Get out your pad and pencil.
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