He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Consternation gripped him. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. None at all.
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