Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street.
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