The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. ‘Exactement. The gong will go at seven-thirty. “I say!” he cried. " He did not pause to consider how she had learned that he had imagination; he comprehended only the direct challenge. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider.
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