"My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket.
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