“To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. He delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Drummond patted him on the shoulder.
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