" "My negligence, Mr. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest.
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