"I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. “I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. He has hanged twelve of his associates already.
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