‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. “I murder people, John. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened.
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