As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. Maggot held up a lantern, which she found in the shop. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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