‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. ‘Ask him. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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