You may go back, Marthe. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Made me fetch up Trodger and a couple more men, and together we searched his luggage and got hold of every single paper the man possessed.
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