" CHAPTER VI. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. Wily little devil she is. " "I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. ” His eyes were closed.
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