“I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. “About two years ago. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor.
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