Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. That was one of the compensations for having consigned himself to this part of the world. “For me there is no second turn. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed. ‘It is nothing. ‘Then he went stark staring crazy, if you ask me. Yours?" The stranger hesitated.
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