"I've lost my wager. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. His sister followed.
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