When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. Those were great tricks that you pulled with the car and the glass, but why shouldn’t I believe that this has all been an elaborate hoax?” He asked.
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