His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. You seemed complete—without that. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. Very doubtful. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. “I murdered them, John.
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