" The stranger smiled incredulously. "You mentioned Mrs. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. " "I never heard of anybody who could," declared McClintock. She had agonized over it for weeks. She brought the cups of cocoa back to the bedroom. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. “I wish I didn’t swear. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. You must—you shall be mine. Montague Hill.
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