Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. "Your health, Kneebone. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it.
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