John eased off. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. Killed is too kind a word. "Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. He then unlocked a cabinet, opened a secret drawer, and, lifter ransacking its contents, discovered a paper he was in search of, and a glove. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. ‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St.
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