’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome. I make no apology for not being with you now. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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