Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. "Come up by the packet?" "No; came up with The Tigress. He knew me, Nigel. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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