No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. He was ready to seed his legacy, and you were a pawn to be moved out of the way. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep.
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