But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. Then he turned on his heel and walked off.
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