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"He expected to be married last fall, but there was a hitch in getting out his book," said Mr. Hilton, as he finished his salad. "So he couldn't get away till last month." "Why not?" said Etwald, coolly. "Mrs. Dallas had no reason to steal the devil-stick, yet--" "Ask him.".
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Conrad
Etwald said nothing. With his eyes fixed upon the devil-stick, he meditated deeply. The barrister, whose belief was that Etwald knew more about the wand than he chose to say, watched him closely. He noticed that the doctor eyed the stick, then, after a pause, let his gaze wander to the face of Maurice. Another pause, and he was looking at David, who received the fire of this strange man's eyes without blanching. "Isn't it lovely and mysterious?" murmured Elinor, pausing to enjoy the sense of isolation that the obscurity of the blurred lamps emphasized. "I almost hate to lift the curtain. It may be so disappointing." "Um! He lub you. He told ole Dido so." "Ho, yis. Now I do tink," said Dido. "Ah, massa, you say I took de debble-stick and made de new smell to fill him. Den dat I kill wid him massa, who lubbed lil missy, and dat I made spells in your house to steal de body. Heh, dat not so?".
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