This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. They steal over to Copeley's at night and dispose of the pearl for cash. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. .
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