She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. It was horrible, but she must do it. The stench is everywhere. “Did you—did you really think that they would take you for a Frenchman?” she exclaimed. I charged the thief-taker, as was the fact, with having robbed me, by means of the lad Sheppard, whom he instigated to deed, of the very pocket-book he produced in evidence against me; but it was of no avail—I couldn't obtain a hearing.
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