’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. ‘I knew it. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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