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A murder at a country house embroils its weekend guests in an international regicide, while a famous jewel thief may be lurking among them.

Page 198 of 339
Table of Contents

XVII

“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what do you think we’d better do now? Go back to bed? I can’t get hold of Badgworthy at this time of night. Tredwell, you know the sort of thing that’s necessary. Just see to it, will you?”

“Very good, my lord.”

With a sigh of relief, Lord Caterham prepared to retreat.

“That beggar, Isaacstein, sleeps soundly,” he remarked, with a touch of envy. “You’d have thought all this row would have brought him down.” He looked across at Mr. Fish. “You found time to dress, I see,” he added.

“I flung on a few articles of clothing, yes,” admitted the American.

“Very sensible of you,” said Lord Caterham. “Damned chilly things, pyjamas.”

He yawned. In a rather depressed mood, the house party retired to bed.

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