He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily.
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