"Life," moralized Tuppence, "is full of surprises." "All the same," continued Whittington, "some one's been talking. You say it isn't Rita. Was it----? Oh, come in." The clerk followed his discreet knock into the room, and laid a paper at his master's elbow. "Telephone message just come for you, sir." Whittington snatched it up and read it. A frown gathered on his brow. "That'll do, Brown. You can go." The clerk withdrew, closing the door behind him. Whittington turned to Tuppence.
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