Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. ’ ‘You,’ announced the lady, throwing an explosive glare at the captain, ‘are a person entirely without sense. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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