The Box With Broken Seals
E. Phillips Oppenheim |
It will be confoundedly annoying, he admitted quietly, if we've had all this journey for nothing.
Hobson moistened his dry lips with his tongue. The whisky and soda and the great bucket of ice stood temptingly at his elbow, but he appeared to ignore their existence. He was a man of ample build, with a big, clean-shaven face, a square jaw and deep-set eyes, a man devoted to and wholly engrossed by his work.
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