A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "You have uttered a wilful and deliberate falsehood in asserting that I have murdered Thames, for whom you well know I would lay down my life. His face clouded with anger. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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