“Is it wise of the English excellency to walk abroad alone,—here?” he asked earnestly, in a voice and patois that sounded queerly familiar. I stopped short and stared at him, and then, in a flash, I knew him, though as yet he had not recognized me, save as a foreigner.
He was the old Jew who had come to my flat on the night of Cassavetti’s murder!
Then, in a flash, I knew him. Page [228]
CHAPTER XXXV
A BAFFLING INTERVIEW
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