“Well?” she said. And if you mean to use that dagger to slip the lock, you’ll make enough noise to bring ten spies down on us. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided.
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