’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger.
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