A lucky escape. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. " "You have extradition papers?" "What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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