The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. She turned and looked at the red LED of the alarm clock that read 3:55. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. ’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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