The House on the River by Fred M. White

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Kent, standing there entirely at his ease and obviously enjoying the situation, was a different Kent altogether to the man that Enderby and Claw had been in the habit, all these years, of treating in a way that either of them would have hesitated to treat a dog. He was just as furtive as ever, with those cunning little eyes of his glittering under his red brows, but there was a suggestion of easy familiarity about him that robbed the other two men of a good deal of their newly acquired confidence. He was obviously enjoying the situation.

"Well," he said. "Who would have thought of seeing me here? Rather a joke, gentlemen, isn't it?"

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