” There was a moment’s silence. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. It's precisely the same thing to me to bid my janizaries cut Thames Darrell's throat, as to order Jack Sheppard's execution. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. He divorced her. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour.
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