<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span></h2>
<p>Some idea of the wave of consternation which swept over England, when it
became known that the Right Honourable Benjamin Castellan, Secretary of
State for the Colonies had disappeared as mysteriously as Sir William
Woller had done before him, will be derived when I say that edition
after edition of the evening papers had been sold by three o'clock in
the afternoon. It was in every sense a grave national calamity, for, as
we all know, at this particular juncture in the country's history,
Benjamin Castellan, of all others, was the man who could least be spared.</p>
<p>"You are sure, I suppose, Sir George, that Castellan intended going home
after you parted in Cockspur Street," the Prime Minister enquired,
looking at me along the table.</p>
<p>"As certain as I am of anything," I replied. "He complained of feeling
tired, and <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span>laughingly declared his intention of going to bed early, in
order that he might be fresh for our meeting this morning."</p>
<p>"He did not seem depressed in any way, I suppose?" put in the First Lord
of the Admiralty.</p>
<p>"He was naturally extremely downcast by the news we had received
concerning the <i>Sultan of Sedang</i>, but in no other sense," I answered.
"I am sorry now that I did not walk with him to his door as I originally
intended doing."</p>
<p>"It is, perhaps, as well that you did not," asserted one of the others,
"for in that case we might have lost you too. Surely my Lord," he
continued, addressing the Prime Minister, "the Police Authorities should
be able to obtain some clue respecting his disappearance? Deserted as
the passage usually is at that hour of the night, for I have passed
through it myself, there <i>must</i> have been some one in the main
thoroughfares at either end who would have given the alarm had they
noticed anything out of the common."</p>
<p>"It is not altogether certain that the crime, if crime it is—and of
that we have as yet no evidence—was perpetrated in the passage of which
you speak," said the Prime Minister;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span> "but wherever, or however, the
deed was committed, the Police I am sure will do their utmost to unravel
the mystery. The mere fact that General Woller's disappearance has not
yet been accounted for is giving rise to a vast amount of uneasiness.
That the same fate should have befallen Mr Castellan will not be likely
to add to the public peace of mind. I am sure the Secretary of State for
the Home Department will do all that lies in his power to see that no
time is lost in bringing the offenders to justice."</p>
<p>When the meeting broke up I made my way with all haste to Carlton House
Terrace, in order to assure my friend's wife of my sympathy, and to help
her in any way that lay in my power. Prostrated with grief though she
was, she consented to see me, and I was accordingly admitted to her presence.</p>
<p>"Oh, Sir George!" she cried, hastening forward to greet me, "is it
possible that you bring news of him? Ah! I can see you do not."</p>
<p>She threw herself into a chair with a little cry of despair, and for a
moment I scarcely knew what to say to comfort her.</p>
<p>"We must hope for the best, Mrs Castellan,"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span> I said at last, and then
added with an assurance that my heart was far from sharing—"no one
knows what the next few hours may bring forth."</p>
<p>"But where can he be?" she cried—"and who can have been base enough to
harm him? I know that he has enemies, as every man who has made a great
name for himself must have, but I cannot think of one who would go so
far as to rob me of him. Oh! it is too cruel! too cruel!"</p>
<p>We were still talking when news reached us that two members of the
Police Department had arrived, and were anxious for an interview.</p>
<p>"I cannot see them," the poor lady declared. "I can tell them nothing
that they do not know!"</p>
<p>"Then let me see them for you," I said. "I think I can answer any
questions they may ask, and at the same time it will spare you the pain
such an interview would entail."</p>
<p>"God bless you for your kindness! You are a true friend."</p>
<p>I thereupon left her, and followed my colleague's secretary along the
hall in the direction of the study.</p>
<p>"This is a sad affair indeed, Mr Gedge,"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span> I said, after we had left the
morning-room. "I presume you have never heard Mr Castellan say anything
as to his being shadowed by any one?"</p>
<p>"Never," he replied; "though I will confess that I have suggested to him
on numerous occasions the advisability of having a companion with him
when he walked home late at night from the House. That, you remember,
was a favourite habit of his. He used to say that the fresh air revived
him after a long debate."</p>
<p>"And he was quite right," I replied. "Now let us hear what the police
have to say."</p>
<p>The two members of the Detective Force, who had been detailed to take
charge of the case, rose as we entered the room. They seemed somewhat
surprised at seeing me, but upon my informing them how I came to be
connected with the matter, willingly excused Mrs Castellan from
attendance.</p>
<p>"Do I understand you to say that you were the last of his friends to see
Mr Castellan before his disappearance?" asked the taller of the two men,
who looked more like a burly Yorkshire farmer than a member of the
Scotland Yard Detective Force.</p>
<p>"It would appear so," I replied. "We<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span> left Wiltshire House on hearing
the news of the disaster to the <i>Sultan of Sedang</i>, drove to the
Admiralty to learn the latest particulars, and then, having dismissed
the carriage, strolled as far as Cockspur Street in each other's company."</p>
<p>"And you parted at the passage that leads from Cockspur Street into
Carlton House Terrace, I believe?" said the other man. "You did not
happen to notice whether any person was following you, I suppose?"</p>
<p>"I don't fancy either of us looked round during the whole distance," I
answered, with an inward wish that I had been suspicious enough to have
taken that simple precaution. "We had too much to occupy our thoughts
without observing the actions of other people."</p>
<p>"And how long did you remain on the pavement? I should be obliged if you
would endeavour to be as accurate as possible, sir, in your answer to this question."</p>
<p>I considered a moment before I replied.</p>
<p>"Between eight and ten minutes I should say, certainly not more. I
remember comparing my watch with a clock above the shop window at the
corner, and remarking as I did so that I was nearly three minutes slow."</p>
<p>"In that case you should be able to fix<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span> the time of his leaving you to
within a minute or two," said the elder of the two men, taking a
note-book and pencil from his pocket as he spoke.</p>
<p>"I can do so exactly. It was five minutes past twelve when we bade each
other good-night."</p>
<p>"Was any one near you on the pavement while you were standing talking?"</p>
<p>"No one, the street was almost deserted."</p>
<p>"I notice that you say <i>almost</i> deserted, sir. Then there were other
people in sight. Do you happen to remember if any one was standing near
you—that is to say, within fifty feet or so?"</p>
<p>"I recollect that there was a policeman on the opposite side of the
road. Two youths in evening dress, both far from sober, passed at the
moment that we stopped. Stay, now I come to think of it, there was an
old woman near us just before we said good-night to each other, and, if
my memory serves me, she disappeared down the narrow passage. It is
strange that I should have forgotten the circumstance."</p>
<p>"An old woman? Can you give me a rather more detailed description of
her? Of what class was she?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Of the very poorest, I should say, and half witted. She was in rags,
and was muttering some gibberish to herself. I am afraid I cannot tell
you any more about her."</p>
<p>"That is rather a pity," said his companion. "I should like to have a
little conversation with that good lady."</p>
<p>"You surely don't think she had anything to do with the Colonial
Secretary's disappearance?" I replied with some surprise. "Why, she
couldn't have had sufficient strength to harm a child, much less a
strong, active man such as Mr Castellan was."</p>
<p>"Perhaps not, sir; it's just possible, however, that she may have had
friends to do the work for her. I don't say, of course, that she <i>had</i>
anything to do with it, but it is our duty to look after every detail,
and my experience has taught me that the most unexpected places often
provide the most likely clues. Let us suppose, for instance, that she
was only the decoy bird, and that the real perpetrators of the crime
were concealed in the passage. As soon as she had discovered Mr
Castellan, she passed into the lane and bade her confederates be on the
alert; then, when he appeared, they would be ready to effect his
capture. Doesn't that plot seem feasible enough, sir?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Very feasible," I felt compelled to admit; "but your case, like the
proverbial figures, can be made to prove anything. However, if you think
the old woman had anything to do with it, what action do you propose to take?"</p>
<p>"I shall try the street first, and endeavour to discover whether any one
heard a scuffle or cries for help last night. Then it's possible the
police on the beat may know something of the old woman, and be able to
give us an insight into her character and identity. In the meantime, if
Mrs Castellan will permit it, I will interview the servants and
endeavour to discover whether they noticed any suspicious characters
loitering about near the house."</p>
<p>"I am sure Mrs Castellan will be only too pleased if you will do what
you deem necessary," I replied.</p>
<p>The man thanked me, and the necessary orders were given for the servants
to be ushered into the room. One by one they were subjected to a
rigorous cross-examination at the hands of the two detectives. Neither
the butler nor any of the men-servants had noticed anything suspicious
in the front of the house, nor had they seen any old woman, answering to
my description, hanging about the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span> premises. The housekeeper and cook
were equally positive in their assertions; indeed, the only person who
had noticed anything peculiar was a young housemaid, who declared that
she had seen two well-dressed men pass the house on three different
occasions during the day. Each time they used the small passage to which
reference has been so often made. When pressed to describe them more
accurately, she was unable to do so.</p>
<p>"They were just ordinary gentlemen," she said, "dressed in frock coats
and silk hats, and they might have, or might not have, carried umbrellas
in their hands." Further than this she declared she could not go, not if
her life depended upon it.</p>
<p>"What makes you so sure that they passed three times?" asked the smaller
of the two detectives.</p>
<p>"Because I saw them first after breakfast, sir," the girl replied, "then
in the middle of the morning, and the last time just before dinner."</p>
<p>This being all that could be extracted from her, the girl was dismissed
from the room, and Mr Castellan's valet was recalled. From him an exact
description of the clothes the missing man was wearing, and a record of
the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span> jewellery he had about his person, was obtained.</p>
<p>"This is no ordinary case of robbery," said the elder detective, "but it
is always as well to know these things. One never knows how useful they
may prove later on."</p>
<p>After asking a few more questions, they thanked me for the information I
had given them and prepared to leave the house.</p>
<p>"You will be sure to acquaint Mrs Castellan with any discovery you may
make?" I said. "I should like to be able to assure her of that?"</p>
<p>"You may, sir. She shall know directly we hear of anything."</p>
<p>Then they bowed themselves out, and I was at liberty to make my missing
colleague's wife acquainted with the result of our interview. I found
her still prostrated with grief and anxiety, a prey to the most
agonising thoughts. I did what I could to comfort her, though I felt
that my ministrations could do her no good. In my own heart I was quite
certain that Castellan had been spirited away by the same mysterious
agency that had deprived us of Woller. What that agency was, however,
was more than I, or any one of us, could determine. When I left Carlton
House Terrace<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span> I drove to the Foreign Office, where I had a consultation
with the Prime Minister which lasted upwards of an hour, after which I
returned to my residence.</p>
<p>I had intended going into the country that afternoon, but, in the light
of this new calamity, I changed my mind and resolved to remain in Town.
Accordingly, after lunch I drove to my office, and remained there until
towards evening. By three o'clock, as I have already said, the terrible
intelligence was known all over the town. In all my experience I cannot
remember a scene of greater excitement. Downing Street, in particular,
was filled with an enormous crowd, eager to learn the latest news. In
the public mind Castellan's disappearance figured as the work of an
enemy, very probably by reason of the prominent part he had played in
the history and development of the war. The wildest rumours were afloat
concerning the affair, and every edition of the evening papers contained
some new item connected with it. At four o'clock I bade my secretary
telephone to Scotland Yard and enquire whether they had any information
to impart. The reply was to the effect that their labours had so far
been entirely fruitless. As in poor Woller's case, not a trace of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span>
missing man could be discovered. Castellan could not have vanished more
completely had he been caught up to the sky at the very moment that I
had said "good-bye" to him.</p>
<p>"It is really most uncomfortable for every one concerned," my secretary
remarked. "If this sort of thing is to continue, one does not know who
the next victim may be."</p>
<p>He was quite right; one certainly <i>did not</i> know. This much, however,
was quite certain: whoever the persons might be who perpetrated the
crime, they were past masters of their art. Their arrangements and the
general conduct of the affair was perfection itself, and against such
science it was almost impossible to guard. For my own part—and I don't
think my worst enemies can accuse me of cowardice—I must confess to a
distinct feeling of uneasiness when I reflected that this mysterious
individual, or band, might possibly try his, or their, hand upon me. The
suggestion emanating from Scotland Yard to the effect that we should
avail ourselves of the offer of police protection, I politely, but
firmly declined. The idea of being shadowed night and day by detectives
was more than distasteful to me.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Yet we do not desire to lose you, Sir George," said the Prime Minister
later, and in saying it he was kind enough to pay me a compliment which
my modesty will not permit me to repeat here. I owe him an apology in
this matter, however, for I now see that he was right. If I should have
to go through it all again, however, I feel that I should act as I did then.</p>
<p>At half-past four o'clock I left the office—by the back door this time,
for I had no desire to be recognised by the crowd—and when I had
crossed the Horse Guards Parade, set off in the direction of Marlborough
House. As I walked along I thought of Castellan and of our meeting on
the previous night. How little he had dreamt when he had carried on his
airy badinage with Madame de Venetza that in less than three hours he
would be gone from the sight of men! This naturally led me to think of
the Countess. I recalled the expression upon her face, and the look in
her eyes, when she had invited me to visit her again, and though, as I
have said before, I do not in any way consider myself a lady's man, I am
willing to confess that the recollection of her condescension gave me
considerable satisfaction.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Not feeling in the humour for Piccadilly, and the raucous voices of the
newsboys shouting—</p>
<p class="bold">"DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SECRETARY OF STATE<br/>
FOR THE COLONIES:<br/>DISAPPEARANCE OF MR CASTELLAN!"</p>
<p>I continued my walk across the green Park in the direction of Hyde Park
Corner. It was a beautiful evening, and in the twilight the Park
presented as peaceful a scene as the soul of man could desire. Reaching
the exit opposite Hamilton Place, I stood for a moment wondering whether
I should cross into Hyde Park or stroll leisurely home. What it was I
cannot say, but for some reason or another I had a strange desire for
the companionship of my fellow men or women. It may have been that the
sudden disappearance of Castellan had upset me more than I supposed. At
any rate, I was far from being myself. As I stood there an idea struck
me, and I wondered why it had not occurred to me before. What was there
to prevent my visiting the Countess that evening? She had declared that
she would be very glad to see me whenever I might call.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>My mind was no sooner made up than I crossed the road and steered a
course for Wiltshire House. On the way many friends would have stopped
me had I permitted them to do so, but I strode resolutely along, paying
no heed to them beyond returning their salutations. At last I reached
the Countess's house and learnt that she was not only at home but would
receive visitors. I found her in her boudoir seated before a bright
fire, though the day had been comparatively warm.</p>
<p>"It is kind indeed of you to take pity upon my loneliness, Sir George,"
she said, as she rose to receive me. "No one could be more welcome. I
have been feeling so very sad this afternoon, and now your society will cheer me up."</p>
<p>"You have heard of Mr Castellan's disappearance, I suppose?" I remarked,
as I seated myself in the chair she indicated. "It has shocked you as it
has done all of us!"</p>
<p>"Have you any way of accounting for it?" she asked.</p>
<p>"None whatever," I replied. "The whole affair is shrouded in mystery.
The police are unable to discover the faintest clue to work upon."</p>
<p>"It will have a very serious effect upon the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</SPAN></span> country, will it not?" she
enquired. "He has played such a conspicuous part in politics of late!"</p>
<p>"He will be missed, I fear," I answered, and stopped there, for I had no
desire to discuss current politics just then.</p>
<p>Putting the topics of the day on one side, we at last came to the
duration of her stay in London.</p>
<p>"I scarcely know how long we shall remain," she said. "I fancy my father
is growing tired of London already. The war is perhaps accountable for
it, but England is too sad just now. I do not like sad places. I prefer
the sun, the warmth, the glitter, and to have smiling faces about me. I
am afraid I must be peculiarly constituted, for the least thing is
sufficient to raise or depress me." Then suddenly brightening up, she
continued: "But there; what a foolish hostess I am to talk to you in
this fashion. I shall frighten you away, and then you will not come and
see me any more. I have no desire to lose so good a friend."</p>
<p>Man of the world though I was, the compliment tickled my vanity, and I
hastened to reply in a suitable fashion. Then I congratulated her upon
the success which had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</SPAN></span> attended her "At Home" on the previous evening.</p>
<p>"In the matter of an 'At Home' it is not so very difficult to be
successful," she replied. "One has only to give <i>carte blanche</i> to one's
cook and house-steward, dress oneself in one's best, and stand at the
head of the stairs to receive one's guests with a conventional smile
upon one's face. A dinner is a somewhat more difficult affair, and
there, I think, without vanity, I may justly pride myself upon my
ability. A cosy little dinner for, let us say, not more than eight
people, each to be most carefully selected. Will you make one of them?"</p>
<p>"I shall be delighted," I replied. "But may it not be a competition? My
man has ambition. Why not let me try to equal your effort, even if I
cannot excel it?"</p>
<p>"Try, by all means. And the prize?"</p>
<p>"The knowledge of success! What prize could be more worth winning?"</p>
<p>"It is settled then?" she returned. "We are each to give a dinner and to
endeavour to outdo each other. I shall make my arrangements accordingly."</p>
<p>After that we drifted into a discussion upon books, pictures, and, by
the natural transition<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</SPAN></span> of things, came at last to music. On this
subject she was as well informed as upon every other.</p>
<p>"It is my passion," she said in explanation. "My piano is the greatest
treasure I possess. I could not live without it."</p>
<p>"I felt certain from the first that you were a musician," I replied. "I
wonder if I could induce you to play to me?"</p>
<p>"I will do so with pleasure if you wish it?" she answered, and
accordingly crossed the room to the corner where the piano stood.
Prepared as I was to find her a good <i>pianiste</i>, I did not dream for a
moment that her talent was so great. As it was, she fascinated me from
the moment that her fingers touched the keys. In explanation I might
here remark that I am particularly susceptible to music, and now, under
her influence, I sat spell-bound. The work was Saint Saën's "Danse
Macabre," and in her hands the fierce madness of that remarkable
composition was brought out with more than its usual <i>diablerie</i>.</p>
<p>In order to understand what is to follow, it must be remembered that I
was seated near the fire-place, and that her piano was at the further
end of the room, so that, placed as I was, I could not see my hostess.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Having once felt the divine <i>afflatus</i>, she played on and on, without
stopping to enquire whether I was tired, wandering from master to master
as the fancy seized her. Such was the effect of the music upon me, that
in a short time I became scarcely conscious of mundane affairs. A
delicious languor was stealing over me, and little by little I felt my
eyes closing. The music appeared to be growing gradually fainter, until
it could scarcely be heard. I tried to rouse myself, but was unable to
do so. At last, even the inclination to battle with the feeling of
drowsiness left me, and I abandoned myself to my fate.</p>
<p>Whether I fell asleep and dreamt what I am about to describe, or whether
the Countess, in the exercise of a deadly power which I feel convinced
she possessed, had hypnotized me, I cannot say. The fact remains, that
in my mind's eye, for my eyes were closed, I saw her rise from the
instrument and approach me. Then, she came closer, stopped, and stooped
over me until her eyes were close to mine. There was a light in them
that pierced my eyelids and penetrated to the centre of my brain.</p>
<p>"It is useless for you to strive with me,"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</SPAN></span> she said; "you are mine, and
must do my bidding."</p>
<p>Then she began to question me on certain matters connected with the war
and with European politics. I appeared to be telling her secrets, so
vital in their importance, that to have breathed them aloud to the world
would have been to run the risk of causing the most serious
international complications. Yet, still powerless to resist, I answered
the questions as they were put to me, keeping nothing back. When she had
learnt all that she wanted to know, she moved away from me, and returned
to the piano. Then once more she began to play, the music growing louder
and more distinct as it progressed. Then I woke, to find her still
playing the same piece as when I had closed my eyes. When she had
finished it, she rose from her seat.</p>
<p>"I think of all the great masters, I prefer Chopin," she said, as she
crossed the room. "Yes, I am certain that he stands first in my admiration."</p>
<p>Her manner was so open, so sincere, that the suspicion I had been
tempted to entertain against her vanished in a trice. It was all
imagination, I told myself. Under the influence of her music I must have
fallen asleep and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</SPAN></span> dreamt it all. Had I not good proof of this? Had it
really happened, it would have taken nearly a quarter of an hour for me
to impart the information she had asked of me. Yet the long hand of the
clock upon the mantel-piece had only advanced three minutes since I had
last looked at it. How comforting this assurance was to me I must leave
you to understand. It was the most singularly vivid dream, however, I
had had in my life, and, but for the evidence of the clock, and the
sincerity of the Countess's manner, I could have sworn that the incident
I have just described had really occurred. Yet there was another side to
the question. I had fallen asleep while paying an afternoon call, and
the idea disquieted me more than I cared to admit. Then a servant
entered with tea, and under the influence of the Countess's Pekoe and
fashionable chit-chat my powers of conversation returned to me. At last
I rose to take leave.</p>
<p>"I fear I have paid you an unconscionably long visit," I said. "Your
beautiful music, however, must be blamed for my over-stepping the bounds
of politeness. I hope you will forgive me?"</p>
<p>"It has been a pleasure to me to play to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</SPAN></span> you," she answered. "One does
not always have such a sympathetic audience."</p>
<p>With that I left her, and on reaching the street turned in the direction
of the Park.</p>
<p>"I should have just time enough for a sharp walk before I dress," I said
to myself, and took my watch from my pocket and glanced at the dial. The
clock on the mantel-piece of the Countess's boudoir, when I had said
good-bye to her, had pointed to half-past five. My watch showed a
quarter to six. This was very singular, for I remembered looking at my
watch as I stood in the portico, after ringing the bell, and also my
laughing remark to the Countess to the effect that I was glad to have
found her at home at such an hour, glancing at the clock as I did so.
Yet now there was a difference of rather more than a quarter of an hour
between the two? What did this signify? Could the Countess's clock have
stopped while she was playing and then have gone on again of its own
accord? It was scarcely likely that, while I was asleep, she had risen
from the piano and had set it going, for going it certainly was when I
bade her good-bye. The remembrance of the dream I had had still weighed
heavily upon my mind, and, do what I would, I could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</SPAN></span> not throw it off.
Yet how absurd it was. Moreover, though I had more than once suspected
her of taking an interest in European politics, she had always denied
the fact to me. Besides, even if this were so, and granted that she had
the power, what reason could she possibly have had for extracting
secrets from me? At this point the remembrance of her eyes and the
singular influence they had had over me in Paris, returned to me.</p>
<p>"What does it all mean?" I asked myself, as if in despair of arriving at
a definite conclusion.</p>
<p>I was to find that out, however, in good time!</p>
<hr />
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