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Mike knocked on the door. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. In any event, I explained that no one lived here and that we’d been called in because of suspected intruders.
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