Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. "My friends, Mr. Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly. Come along, master.
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