The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. She had no intention of fighting fair. It was. She leaned forward and addressed him. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. McClintock will be tuning up the piano to-day.
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