‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. . They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. We'll be upon the ban-dogs before they can shake their trotters!" And the alarm was sounded more loudly than ever.
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