He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. " "Never!" replied the woollen-draper; "and if that treacherous rascal, by your side, doesn't make himself scarce quickly, I'll send a bullet through his brain. ’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom.
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