His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. "Done!" cried Shotbolt. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. . This time there wasn't any doubt. But there was a face pressed to the glass. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield.
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