Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. “You have even her name. His glasses were gone.
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