He was an imaginative young man. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling.
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