\"Good night, girls. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” Sir John’s head bent lower and lower. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. We’re going in. Sheppard. “I don’t know. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again. Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter. “Dear me!” he said.
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