"How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. He smiled. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.
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