Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course. His literary instincts began to stir. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Maggot held up a lantern, which she found in the shop.
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