I thought that he was dead. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes.
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