He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. It shall be the bludgeon. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol.
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