The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. He dressed mechanically; so many moves this way, so many moves that. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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