“No, don’t interrupt me. The Burglary at Dollis Hill. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. The castle stood on the main island which connected to the mainland by a foreboding stone and wooden bridge.
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