You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. The man Hill has persecuted me for months—ever since I have been in England. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond.
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