” Ennison laughed softly. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone.
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