” “Did any one see you leave the flat?” he asked. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. At once there came an answering knock.
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