" "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. " "Nothing else?" "No. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. Wood thought them both remarkably plain, but Mr. We're told, that 'Whoso is partner with a thief hateth his own soul.
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