His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. " "I should be unafraid to go anywhere with you. Stanley in person. ‘Can’t see a thing. ” He thought. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home. Will I meet you there?’ ‘Yes, yes, I shall await you. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided.
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