In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. Gerald’s breath caught. Both McCloskeys disappeared on the same night, without a single trace. “You will go and see her,” he begged. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly.
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