" "I am almost afraid to utter it," said Kneebone; "but Thames Darrell is murdered. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. Never. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. Vee’s all right. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility.
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