She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Murder had become nothing to her. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. ‘You mean there isn’t any evidence of a break-in. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. .
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