He must be gone to dispose of the body. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. ‘But a spy I am not. Still, his suspicions were so strong, that he ordered Mendez to remain on guard near the spot all night, and, by the promise of a large reward induced two other men to keep him company. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. It doesn’t seem to matter. I took the usual way home. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. Go easy.
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