There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open.
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