Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. “You are very good,” she said. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. "Stop!" exclaimed Jack, planting himself before the door; "do you want to get me sent across the water?" "I want to save you from disgrace and ruin," returned Thames.
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