‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. He suspected a trap. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. “He is a sad blunderer. ” “Well, I take it we’re straight again,” said Capes with a note of relief, and assumed an easier position on the edge of her table. "Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten.
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