“Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. "I'll need a job when I quit this bed. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly.
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