‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. “My dad is into this stuff. Well, I'll take myself off. Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, that five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr.
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