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. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. Surely Capes was different. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. If only—Anna, tell me,” she broke off suddenly, “how did you get to know Mr. “No. Of all the amazing coincidences. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. “Mr.
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