E. ’ It was a wait of several minutes while Melusine chafed. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. E. S. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book.
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