The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. “Nothing has happened to Mr. ’ ‘Melusine!’ came sharply from the doorway. “He wants to settle something on you, I believe. . He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. He glanced up. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement.
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