" A detective. He told some of the particulars. ‘Knowed it the instant I set eyes on her. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days.
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