Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. E. When she was quite sure that he was gone she took her sister’s note from the mantelpiece and slowly broke the seal. “John, don’t!” she cried. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. No, this was imbecile. “Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. She was wan and white.
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