"You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. Last night there had been no time. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. I'll engage to get the job done by six. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. No one would ever know what happened to him. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door. The militia were in already. "The chief of the detective agency informed me that it would be best not to let Mr.
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