In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. . Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained.
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