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“You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. Mike had suffered severe depression in his first years with the Becks, but had grown to think of them as his natural family to the degree that his past seemed like a distant memory.
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