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Clifford knew and deplored the fact that Gethryn's "cellar" was no longer open to the public. Since the day when Rex returned from Julien's, tired and cross, to find a row of empty bottles on the floor and Clifford on the sofa conversing incoherently with himself, and had his questions interrupted by a maudlin squawk from the parrot also tipsy since that day Gethryn had carried the key.
Beads of perspiration clustered above his canary-colored eyebrows as he set down the glass with a gasp. Braith was watching the crowd. Presently he exclaimed: "There's Rex now," and rising, waved his glass and his cane and called Gethryn's name. The people sitting at adjacent tables glanced at one another resignedly. "More crazy English!" "Rex! Clifford!"
The other bent down and placed his hands under Gethryn's arms, and half helped, half by his own impatient efforts Rex sat up, leaning against the other man. A sharp twinge shot through the numbness of his legs, and his eyes, seeking the cause, fell upon the body of a woman. She lay across his knees, apparently dead. Rex remembered her now for the first time. "Lift her," he said weakly.
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