Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. "These writer chaps are queer birds. We'll be upon the ban-dogs before they can shake their trotters!" And the alarm was sounded more loudly than ever.
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