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The sitting room looked as familiar as the back of his hand, and immediately Lenox took a liking to the young man who inhabited it. He saw several small artifacts of the missing student’s life---a frayed piece of string about two feet long of the sort you might bind a package with, half of a pulpy fried tomato, which was too far from the breakfast table to have been dropped, a fountain pen, and lastly, a card which said on the front The September Society. . . .
In the small hours of the morning one fall day in 1866, a frantic widow visits detective Charles Lenox. Lady... more
In the small hours of the morning one fall day in 1866, a frantic widow visits detective Charles Lenox. Lady... more