Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. Well, I shall be sorry to lose him, Mr. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. She said that in the note. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. "Is it poison?" she asked. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr.
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