’ Hilary eyed him. " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him.
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