Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. He had attained the residence by his political ascension to the Duke of Herculis. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked.
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