sheet on the table. "Tuppence----?" faltered Tommy. "Read for yourself." The typewritten words danced before his eyes. The description of a green toque, a coat with a handkerchief in the pocket marked P.L.C. He looked an agonized question at Mr. Carter. The latter replied to it: "Washed up on the Yorkshire coast--near Ebury. I'm afraid--it looks very much like foul play." "My God!" gasped Tommy. "TUPPENCE! Those devils--I'll never rest till I've got even with them! I'll hunt them down! I'll----" The pity on Mr. Carter's face stopped him.
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