‘But then again, possibly not. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. You called yourself a murderess. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable.
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