You wouldn't rob Mr. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. There was no response. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. That would come later. ’ Gerald cast a swift look up the corridor, but there was no one there, not even a shadow. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward.
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