" "Oh! goodness!" ejaculated the tapstress, in alarm. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning documents. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. At any rate, I can see that you’re not protecting him at all. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided.
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