“The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him.
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