" "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. It would be swindling. A quarter of an hour passed. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from.
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