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I applaud your prudence: it is, however, needless. "The chief of the detective agency informed me that it would be best not to let Mr. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. He knocked at the door. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled.
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