‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. "Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. ‘Now be sensible, Melusine, and let me help you. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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