Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. After all, where prayer fails, a pistol is bound to succeed. To these a heavy wooden apparatus was attached, which could be raised or lowered at pleasure by pullies. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders.
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