He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. “Thanks to you. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. It might prove rewarding. I've got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNS4yMzUuNzQgLSAxNi0wNi0yMDI0IDE3OjEwOjAzIC0gMTQ0NDA1Nzk5OQ==
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