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The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. Gerald liked her enormously. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. “I think,” he said, “that I am right. ” Her mind went off to Capes. "Suppose he does. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. It was not a hopeful looking group.
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