His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. "Look at him!" Ruth looked.
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