The Ragged Edge. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. I may as well think. “I do not even know who you are. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. “You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. But Ann Veronica had still to get to her chief topic. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. Humph.
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