\" Mike retorted churlishly. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. ‘You’d do the same. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. ’—he’s frightfully anti-Mendelian—having it all their own way. Besides, he might hear things.
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