CHAPTER XIII. On Saturday he went to that there Mr Charvill’s house. It’s a world in which the law can be a stupid pig and the police-stations dirty dens. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. Emile Gosse must know his only chance was to be rid of Melusine. Probably something he had eaten.
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