" "I'd give half I'm worth to hang the villain, and restore this boy to his rights," said Mr. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane.
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