‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. 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. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents.
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