The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. ” He whispered to himself as her eyes bulged, arms flying furiously. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business.
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