The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. My wife—killed me. ” It was settled. The name of his father's murderer is also known to me. “But your hair,” he gasped. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. It was not a difficult affair. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. Jonathan smiled contemptuously. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat.
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