"On that night,—in this room,—in your presence, Blueskin,— in yours Mr. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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