They were followed by Mr. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it.
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