His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. "The sum which incited the villain to the murder," replied Jack. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face.
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