Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. "But you've done well to trust me. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. That's a queer yarn. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. I forget. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room.
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