48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. Aha!" he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, "I see you're confounded. Wood will be here presently.
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