“I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. ” She murmured. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. She had called the police on them anonymously.
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