" "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. ” “I wish I could make you visible to yourself. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered.
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