’ ‘Captain Roding, sir,’ put in Gerald, adding on a jocular note, ‘Another of the green whippersnappers you had to contend with some years back. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves.
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