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Summary
There’s no sender’s name inside either, though. What there is, is a return train ticket from St Pancras to Paris, leaving after the show and returning Sunday afternoon, a members card in his name for what turns out to be a private club he’s not heard of in the second arrondissement—thank you google—a smaller, but still creamy, envelope containing five-hundred euros, a map of the Paris Metro in English, and a postcard, blank on the back, of the Eiffel Tower all lit up at night.