‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. Her lips parted, but no words came. The theme was a masquerade. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. "Done!" cried Shotbolt.
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