"Hold!" cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; "they are nothing to me. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. He would know her address to-morrow. " A moment afterwards, they quitted the house. Plainly. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. His shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter.
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