“You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. He will say who it was. The doctor nodded to him curtly. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. En tout cas, I am not trespassing at all. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here.
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