The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. ‘So it is that you could not help it. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted.
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