As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. " "Let this speak for me," said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards him. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face.
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