Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. I do not think that you will dare to marry anybody else. "Is this her work?" "It is," answered Thames. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. She felt much better.
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