’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Hilary threw up his eyes. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. .
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