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away from our tents the large circle of lookers on. An
who was following us stumbled in between Harley and myself,
of diamond merchants, and some weeks ago a valuable diamond
“Quick! quick!” he cried breathlessly, grasping Lady
his face. A bank of yellow fog instantly enveloped him,
end. Mr. Nicholson, here, identified her at Bow Street
Uttering a sort of moan of terror she herself closed the
fear-bright eyes. He stopped, glaring at his father, and:
