I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated
professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons
the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the
Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and
motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace
Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of
those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up
from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining
overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs,
carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. It engulfed them
in black, white, and gray. Lucy heard a stir, but if
Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it
could only mean two murders tonight. She walked through
the walls.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 01-07-2024 19:46:07