CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. ‘I don’t propose doing anything with you. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger.
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