“I was in Paris four years ago,” Mr. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. ‘Yes, that is reasonable. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you.
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