James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed. Even Mike can make a pretty tasty hamburger.
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