" "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. It was bad luck to go to Canongate.
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