Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. ” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte.
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