But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. She rang again with the same result. Get out your pad and pencil. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster.
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