CHAPTER XXVI. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. In worldly matters Gay was not fortunate. “I’ve gotta go. .
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