You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. Never mind. " "Not quite," rejoined the thief-taker, significantly. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. .
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