Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. “It was the night you left Paris. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. Even this man had accepted her for “Alcide” without a moment’s question. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. Suspicion was in his face.
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