Then she called a hansom and drove home. Spurling and Austin at their evening meal, with Caliban in attendance. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. By the side of her plate was a small key.
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