"Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. "Mother, I come to you.
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