I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Something seemed awry. She found an old drunk wandering the streets. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward.
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