She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. "Mrs. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. “She has one, that’s why. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt.
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