“Yes, I know. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. "Silence!" returned Jackson, in a deep whisper; "and don't muddle your brains with any more of that Pharaoh.
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