They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. \" Michelle agreed, staring into the clouds. ” Sir John smiled. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom.
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