" "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Such pretty manners, she thought. You know as well as I do that it was accident. Wu may have news for us.
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