47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker.
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