“Sure, I guess so. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. The light disappeared. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done.
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