"Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. " "There's a funny idea in my head. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. He might have supposed the fellow would be eager to be rid of the tale, for that he might have longer to enjoy the amenities of the Triumphal Chariot where the meeting had been appointed. She told us that it was a disguise.
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