” “I think I am. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. And such skirts as Ann Veronica had had when she entered the valley of Saas were safely packed away in the hotel, and she wore a leather belt and loose knickerbockers and puttees—a costume that suited the fine, long lines of her limbs far better than any feminine walking-dress could do. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. Of Jack Sheppard or the assailants they could not discover a single trace.
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