Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison.
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