’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. She thought her niece very hard and very self-possessed and self-confident. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. "She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked.
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