He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. " "I am a thief, nevertheless.
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