Wood, furiously. Because every mistake you make, for every new mishap, Joe, I take a finger. It’s well hidden, miss. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table.
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