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Synopsis

Mr. George Henshaw let himself in at the front door, and stood for some time wiping his boots on the mat. The little house was ominously still, and a faint feeling, only partially due to the lapse of time since breakfast, manifested itself behind his waistcoat. He coughed – a matter- of-fact cough – and, with an attempt to hum a tune, hung his hat on the peg and entered the kitchen.

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