Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other.
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