" The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. "You are my prisoner, Jack.
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