It’s—Mrs. I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone. 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. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. It was clear by the look on her face that she decided to leave the house immediately.
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