“You are an impostor. I can smell you. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. I'm crazy over music, too. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. . We all get deceived sometimes. " Trenchard took up a pen. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. In military circles, highly exaggerated tales of Major Alderley’s derring-do were bruited from lip to lip and passed on to raw recruits to strengthen morale.
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