At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. Easily. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. "Will he consent, to be searched?" inquired Jonathan. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. E. "You're wanted. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. .
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