"You can render no further service to your poor mother. I wanted the time with you. A wedding procession turned the corner. Give me my pistol and my dagger. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. “I hope you will not compel me to say again that I do not know the man’s name, nor, to the best of my belief, have I ever seen him before in my life.
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