The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Only a book detective could dope this out. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. ’” Anna made no remark. " "I am a thief, nevertheless. ” He said with a laugh. You’re a lady. "A storm!" exclaimed the landlord.
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