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Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb.

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