“I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. Gianfrancesco was a contact of mine, I had allied myself to his father before him, and unbeknownst to anyone, to his Great-great-granduncle during the time of Crusades.
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