The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. “Then I don’t take this as final. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. Man's fate is in his own hands. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said.
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