CHAPTER XXXII. No: I must face it out. We mustn’t make it so. "By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," replied Thames. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right.
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