Sepulchre's clock struck eight. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. Nor can we. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind. ” She eyed him scornfully. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us.
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