” Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: “I am not here to bandy words with you. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge.
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