She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. It is as if my lips had been sealed about them. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror.
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