Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. " The detective ruefully inspected the scarlet band on his perfecto. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. Her scream shook the windows of the sedan. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica.
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