“You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. ‘You will please to tell this—this idiot to release me. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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