CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. “Of course!” he said. "You're mistaken, Winny. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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