“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. Maggot held up a lantern, which she found in the shop. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. Hearing the spring touched, he dashed through on the instant, and struck down the person who presented himself, with his bludgeon.
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