. “You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, mademoiselle,” he said curtly. 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. Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that.
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