“Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. ‘I am not a murderer. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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