“That strange-looking gentleman has called again, sir. He will not be put off with any excuse. What had I better say to him?” Arthur Hudson, who had been busily writing at his desk in his solidly-furnished office in Cheapside, looked up, a slight expression of annoyance on his handsome clear-cut features. The clerk who had thus addressed him, a slight, middle-aged man of fifty, with a bald head, and grey moustache, and a nervous, furtive manner, coughed, and began to move his feet uneasily, for he knew he had exceeded his instructions.…
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